


Auricle

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26634910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Voyager, except Tom’s a Ferengi.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Auricle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The shuttle lurches forward, slamming Harry into the console, but the hard metal goes soft where it collides with his stomach, like suddenly, everything’s wrapped in old-fashioned styrofoam. He reels back in his chair, blinking against the blinding white explosion overtaking the entire viewscreen. The shuttle’s internal sirens are ringing in his ears, cut off by a frantic order from Tom. Dark hair has tumbled into Harry’s eyes, and only because this is just a simulation instead of the real thing, Harry wastes the second it takes to scrub his bangs out of the way. 

Tom’s groaning in his peripherals, still bent over the pilot’s station, clutching both ears in palpable distress. As the debris clears ahead of them, Harry takes a steadying breath. Tom doesn’t. He’s still making agonized noises as Harry mutters, “The safeties are on; you shouldn’t be hurt.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tom grumbles, not through the universal translator but the Federation Standard he’s lapsed into ever since his Voyager liaison became involuntarily permanent. It doesn’t matter how the captain got each person on board—it doesn’t matter if they were recruited from the Caretaker’s pseudo-children or hand-picked out of a New Zealand penal colony; in the Delta Quadrant, they’re all on the same crew. And that means they need to keep their Starfleet skills honed. If Tom hadn’t flunked out of the Academy, he’d probably be the best pilot in the entire Federation, and Harry wants to learn from that. 

It’s just hard when Tom’s curled into a little ball and acting like a Tellarite child. Used to the dramatics, Harry patiently waits for Tom to explain, “These damn things aren’t adjusted for Ferengi sensibilities; do you have any idea how _loud_ that actually was?”

Actually, he doesn’t. And that’s a good point. Harry’s shoulders slump with the realization—Tom’s right. The holodeck’s not built for him. The boom was ridiculously loud, and Harry’s ears are still recovering, but Tom’s ears are about five times that size. 

He gives Harry a hurt look and practically whimpers, “If you could just rub them right here...”

And just like that, Harry remembers he’s dealing with _Tom Paris_. He sighs, “I’m not going to give you oo-max, Tom.”

Tom gasps, looking horribly affronted. “Why, Harry—I would never! We’re best friends!”

A grin twitches at Harry’s face. Maybe their friendship’s a little _too_ close at times, and all at once, he wonders if this idea of practice happened organically, or if Tom invited him along in the hopes of inciting just such a scenario. 

Then again, if that was an evil plan, it wasn’t as clever as it seems, because Harry doesn’t see any cotton swabs stuck in Tom’s massive orange ears, and that really must’ve hurt. 

Harry has _just_ enough pity to reach across the space between them and brush his thumb tenderly over Tom’s outer lobe, figuring it’ll be a small stroke for him, but a large consolation prize for Tom. Tom’s lashes instantly flutter, mouth parting to show jagged teeth. He leans into the touch, moaning quietly, and then Harry withdraws his hand and starts resetting the program.

“Harry, have I ever told you you’re my favourite hoo-man?”

Fondly rolling his eyes, Harry reloads the scenario for attempt number two.


End file.
